The junior soccer team was limbering up in the hazy sunshine as we hashers
gathered at the edge of the recreation ground on this Mothering Sunday.
Canman arrived as we were about to circle up, carefully planting the front
of his chariot into a convenient rubble mound.

A single JM of the male variety welcomed one and all, no newbies and no
visitors, just a good turnout. The hares were as communicative as usual,
saying that the trail had been marked with the kind of flour known as
daffodil, very droll, and that it would be The White Horse for afters.

We started with a bit of messing about on the immediate footpaths, then
the pack settled on the bridleway east, finding a check at the first
crosspaths. Pancsi and Glen kept going east while Sinbad and Old Faithful
went miles north before the good stuff was found by Splasher, south towards
the Stud Farm and the threatening climbs beyond.

It might be that hares were too lazy to haul flour up any of the climbs
because we now made a U turn north on the path next to Bushy Pieces
(stop sniggering) back to the bridleway at Upper Norwood Farm.
A sizeable bunch checked east here and overran the false mark, so while
Dr Blood set off to call them back the rest of us speculated on the need
for the pigs to have a wallowing hole before following Kinky and Glen north
to Upper Norwood to strains of follow me follow, down to the hollow etc.

A bit more checking here before Panda ushered us onto a delightful north west
path uphill with a profusion of blooming primroses, over a strange pair of
co-located stiles to meet the walkers at a regroup.

From here Bambi found the way north into Middleheath Copse and over the rickety
rackety bridge, terrifying for anyone with Troll phobia such as Flash. Most
walked the climb over lovely soft pine needle loam west, across the road and
into Homeball Wood where we had a hard time finding the trail as it left the
footpath and meandered through the boggy flat dell to meet the path southwards
towards The White Horse (or what was The White Horse --- see later).

Now we were nearly home, but this is where things went a bit pear shaped,
as the leading group (Pancsi, Old Faithful, Glen, Kinky, Flash, Panda, Hairbrush,
and Splasher) preferred to cut across the field to Peters Farm, found the On-In
trail but took it in the wrong direction, ho hum.

One way or another we all made the short distance back to the recreation ground.

At the circle we thanked the hares (for not taking to the hills) and mentioned Old
Faithful and Panda who should know better than to get caught asking for directions.
Glen was lucky enough to receive the Hash-It for the new condition of the shoes
he wore.

I was feeling unsociable so waved everyone off to The White Horse only to see them
all returning to go to The Forester's .. I assume the beer was found there.

Odd that the hares had not noticed that The White Horse is no longer, it is an ex pub.